


A Shoulder to Lean On

by jolly_ranchers_girl



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Slow Burn, delpad is only at the start, donpad is the main ship, rated teen just in case, this is barely planned out so bear with me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-06-15 00:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15400632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolly_ranchers_girl/pseuds/jolly_ranchers_girl
Summary: AKA: The story where Launchpad and Donald raise the triplets together.





	1. Chapter 1

Donald tapped his fingers anxiously on his knees, eyes flicking between the clock and the front door multiple times. His sister, Della, was finally coming home from a two week long adventure. Each adventure, he noticed, were getting longer and longer.

And the sudden fear of her never returning claws at his heart each passing day until he can barely wait a second to see her face. The clock ticked, another minute gone. His taps grew into a frenzy, the sound creating a chorus with the dreaded ticking of the clock.

The front door remained closed.

Donald could practically hear his thumping heart as the panic struck him. Is she alright? Is she okay? Did she get hurt? Why didn’t Scrooge call him? Should he-

The door knob turned, and in stepped Della, a halo around her form as if she took the form of an angel. A smile spread across her face the moment her eyes fell on him. He could see the surprise and excitement behind them despite knowing he would be there.

She quickly enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug, one he immediately melted into. She smelled like fresh lemons with a subtle scent of engine grease. The combination didn’t sound pleasant, he had to admit, but it was her.

Della pulled away, keeping her hands firmly on his shoulders. She studied him as if two weeks could bring a lot of difference. He doubted it. Nothing could change in that short of time.

But he was about to be proven wrong, here, and many times later in his life. He just didn’t know it yet.

“Um, Della,” said someone from outside. The person sounded male, but Donald didn’t want to assume. “Can I come in now?”

Della gave her brother an apologetic smile before dashing over to the door to deal with guest -or intruder. He now seemed to notice she wasn’t wearing her aviator goggles or the rest of her pilot getup. Instead, she stood there in a one shoulder shirt with a sleeve missing -it was replaced with a strap, strangely- and a pair of shorts.

“Come on in, LP,” Della said, gesturing as if the man -or woman, it was still a possibility- didn’t know where to go. She stepped aside as the man -it was definitely a man, now that he could see him- entered the doorway.

The man was a tall, big duck wearing an aviator jacket, cargo pants and a hat over his fiery red hair -a mullet, he noticed. The nervous smile on his beak removed any semblance of intimidation his size gave him.

“Donald,” Della said, moving to stand by the stranger. “This is Launchpad McQuack, my boyfriend.”

Donald leapt to his feet, almost tripping over them. He steadied himself, and looked between the two multiple times trying to process the new information. “When did this-” he gestured at them “-happen?”

Della reached over to grab her boyfriend’s hand, intertwining their fingers. “We’ve been dating for about a month. I wanted to introduce you, but the adventure came up before I had the chance.” Her eyes suddenly lit up, and she ran out of the room calling over her shoulder, “I have to get the Egyptian plate I found from the car, get to know each other!”

She was gone before Donald could even reply, leaving the two drakes alone. The air felt tense, both ducks not knowing whether to speak or just wait for Della to return.

Launchpad -what kind of name was that?- grew antsy the more seconds ticked on, twiddling his thumbs and looking at everything but Donald. Donald wasn’t faring any better, having to keep from tapping his foot impatiently -that wouldn’t give a good impression, would it?

Launchpad was the first to speak -and Donald really wished he didn’t. “So, how long have you known Della?”

“My whole life,” Donald deadpanned. What kind of question was that? They were twins! He found the question dumb, and he automatically told him so.

The other winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, right, sorry.” he directed his gaze to a painting on the wall. Donald smiled. It was a portrait of Della, so realistic despite it missing the sparkle in her eyes and the love in her smile.

“I’m back!” Della called, strutting into the room, a clump of cloth in her hands. She stopped in front of them, already unwrapping the cloth from her treasure. It was a plate made of African ebony wood with a gold inlaid pattern of symbols Donald was sure Della could read

“It’s beautiful, Della,” Launchpad said, the smile back on his face.

Della smiled back. Then she made the biggest mistake -at least, Donald thought so.

She tried to hand the plate to Launchpad. Either she wanted him to take a closer look or she was gifting it to him, Donald didn’t know.

In a movie the scene would’ve been slowed down, the plate slipping from the cloth, it hitting the ground with a soft thud, a crack forming in the middle and spreading out like vines. But it happened quicker than Della’s or Donald’s reflexes, the plate already almost in pieces on the ground.

Della just stared at it, her arms hanging at her sides like limp noodles. After a few minutes of intense silence, she spoke, voice too quiet, “I really liked that plate.”

The moment the words fell off her tongue, Launchpad filled the rest of the space with apologies. Over and over. He said them over and over.

Donald felt his blood simmer. No one, not even a tall buffoon, could hurt his sister. He decided, right then and there as he tried to bring his anger under control, that Launchpad had to go.

\------

With Launchpad finally gone, Donald paced the floor. Della watched him wearily from where she sat on the couch. In her lap was the plate she was trying hard to fix. She was currently filling in the plates cracks, and after she would add a nice wood polish to make it look even better.

“He apologized Donald,” she said offhandedly, “It was an accident.”

Donald replied with raspy quacks that would sound like just nonsense to others, but Della could understand it; he wasn’t happy at all, and he was directing all his fury at her non-present boyfriend.

“He’s clumsy.” she shot back, no bite in her words. Years ago she figured out that fighting Donald’s fire with fire wasn’t going to do either of them any good.

He replied with more unintelligible sounds. Now, calling Launchpad ignorant was too far.

“Donald,” she said, setting her tools aside. Donald immediately quieted already knowing he was in for it. “Launchpad is a sweet guy. You would know that if you would just try to get to know him. You know what? Tomorrow, you’re going to hang out with him. All day.”

“But Della,” her brother whined.

“No buts, now come over here and help me with this.”

\------

Della woke up tangled in her hot sheets, and furiously kicked herself free of them. She blinked the drowsiness from her eyes only to be met with the room spinning when she sat up. She fell back against her pillow, closing her eyes tight to block out the nausea the sight caused.

She couldn’t help but wonder if she picked up a bug on her travels. That had to be the reason, right? It wasn’t uncommon. Donald practically got sick after every adventure before he quit going on them -he wanted to just have a normal life.

Speaking of Donald, there was a knock at her bedroom door. “Hey, Della? You up? You didn’t answer the front door so I just let myself in.”

Della just groaned, suddenly shivering from a chill rushing through her. She couldn’t help but wish she was wrapped up in her sheets again.

Donald slowly opened the door, sticking his head into the room. He frowned at the sight of her. She was pale, feathers clumped together un-naturally, and was just laying there. Her eyes opened into a squint at the squeak the door made, almost immediately shielding them from the light filtering in.

He stepped inside the dark room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He took quick steps over to the bed and reached down to feel her forehead. She was warm, not too alarming, but it was definitely a fever.

“How do you feel?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet in case she was worse than she looked.

“Cold.”

Donald nodded, already pulling her sheet up and around her still frame. “Do you need anything else?”

Della shook her head, tiredly snuggling into the now welcomed warmth. He gave her a small smile before turning to leave. When he had his hand on the doorknob, a memory became clear in her mind. “Donald, wait.”

He stopped, tilting his head in her direction to show he was listening.

“I told Launchpad to come over today.” she closed her eyes, already falling into a soft dream.

Donald quietly left the room, making sure to turn the hallway light off as he walked past the switch. He stepped out into the living room, just as someone knocked on the door.

Perfect timing, he thought feeling quizzical about who was at the door. He had an idea but he hoped against it. He really hoped the man forgot. When he opened the door, a bouquet of yellow ranunculuses ( _How do I know that?_ ) were shoved into his face. He took a step back, eyes widened.

Launchpad’s eyes widened too, not expecting Donald to be the one opening the door. He chuckled awkwardly, pulling the flowers back. “I was expecting Della,” he explained, finding a spot on his shoes very interesting. “She told me her favorite color was yellow so… I got her these.”

The snarky comment Donald was ready to reply caught in his throat. “That’s… really sweet, actually.” he admitted softly, their gazes meeting. He coughed and looked away. “But Della’s sick.”

“Oh.”

The one word held so much pain that Donald couldn’t help but do it; he stepped aside. “But you could come in and spend some time with me.” he nearly slapped himself from how awkward he sounded.

But the smile on Launchpad’s face was worth it. He moved inside almost immediately, leaving the smaller duck there to contemplate what he just did. He invited Della’s boyfriend in. He invited him in. How did he accomplish that?

He chuckled dryly at the fact that Della was right again. He was going to hang out Launchpad afterall. He just prayed she wasn’t right about the ‘all day’ part.

By the time Donald closed the door, Launchpad had disappeared into another part of the house. He strained his ears for any sound. The soft noise of closing and opening cupboards met his ears, and he started his way to the kitchen.

The first thing he noticed when he opened the door were the flowers safely placed in a vase on the counter. The next was Launchpad cooking something. The smell wrapped around him, eagerly tugging him to the pot on the stove. His mouth practically watered the closer he got to it.

He peeked into the pot, confirming the sweet-smelling food was soup. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Launchpad had to bend down to stir the brew. The sight caused a snicker to slip out before he could stop it.

The goofy smile that appeared on Launchpad’s face was clear as day. Donald couldn’t help but share it as he reached for his own spoon. He scooped up a bit of the soup, blew on it, and tasted it. The soup was creamy with soft chunks of vegetables.

Launchpad watched him, patiently waiting his critique.

“Hmm,” Donald finally said after swallowing. “It could use more salt.”

\------

After discovering her two favorite boys -Launchpad and Donald, if it wasn’t obvious- both liked to cook, it became Della’s mission to get to be friends.

It had been a few weeks since she got sick, and Donald found himself sitting cross-legged on the edge of her bed with Launchpad leaning back against him.

“What am I supposed to be doing again?” he asked, trying not to touch the other man at all.

“Play with his hair,” Della said from her comfortable seat on Launchpad’s lap. Both were on the floor by the bed -the only way Donald could mess with Launchpad’s locks without having to stand the whole time. “You can go ahead and play with mine, baby.”

Launchpad didn’t need to be asked twice, already running his fingers through her soft hair.

Donald glanced at the bows and clips Della dumped on the bed, then turned back to Launchpad’s fiery locks. He hesitated. He always played with Della’s hair whenever she asked. But this wasn’t Della. This felt… too intimate. He didn’t deserve the honor.

“You don’t have to,” Launchpad said as if reading his thoughts. “If you don’t want to.”

“Do I have permission?” Donald asked before he could stop himself. When all he got was silence, he added in a soft voice, “I just want to know that you are okay with this.”

“Of course I am,” Launchpad said, his voice giving away the smile Donald couldn’t see.

With that said, Donald slipped his hands into the man’s hair. He was surprised to find it was softer than Della’s. Now what was he going to do with it? After a few minutes of planning, he decided to give the man a short fishtail braid. He got to work.

“Okay, if you two keep silent I’m gonna go crazy,” Della said interrupting the silence that had snuggly wrapped around them.

Donald sighed. “What do you want us to talk about?”

“Yourselves.” she replied, mischief clear in her tone.

“Fine. I used to be a sailor-” he glanced down at his old sailor suit “-if you couldn’t tell. And I like cooking. Alright, I’m done.”

“Well, it's a start.” she reluctantly admitted.

“I’m a pilot-” Launchpad pulled his pilot’s license from his pocket and tossed it back to Donald, hitting the sailor square in the face- “and I come from a family of pilots. I always wanted to be a pilot since I was five…”

Donald listened to him drone on about his life, his hobbies, and anything he could think of. It was actually kind of nice hearing him talk.

\------

Donald spent weeks on end hanging out with his sister and her boyfriend. Whenever Della would ask about it, he would just wave it off and claim that he had nothing better to do -if he ignored his lack of a job, that is. She would always reply with a knowing smile.

But what did she know?

That spending time with Launchpad isn’t as bad as he first thought? That _Launchpad_ wasn’t as bad as he first thought?

Of course she did. She was his twin afterall. She read him like a book even if he tried to hide a chapter from her.

So, it was no surprise when he was there to watch Della prance around the living room to music. He just smiled as she danced. It was a common occurrence with her.

It wasn’t a surprise when she started singing, but her pulling him from the couch and into her dance fest, that was a surprise.

But he went along with it, singing just as loudly and off key as she was. It was bliss.

And then they both pulled Launchpad from his seat and into the fray. He looked hesitant at first, but with a few encouraging hip bumps from Della he was singing and dancing too.

When Launchpad tripped, landing atop the twins, they all sat their quiet. Then Donald and Della started guffawing despite the bigger duck squishing them. Launchpad quickly joined in, filling the room with three sets of laughter.

Donald was happy being around Launchpad.

And Della knew.

\------

“You know something,” Della said later when Donald went home for the night. She was curled up against Launchpad’s side, watching whatever was on tv.

“What?” he asked, subconsciously rubbing his hand up and down her arm in a soothing manner.

“Donald doesn’t sing in front of many people.” she said, looking up at him. “You’re really special to him.”

“And to you?” he asked, leaning down.

“And to me.” she leaned up to connect his beak in a soft kiss.

\------

“Donny,” Launchpad watched his friend flip through the channels on the tv. “Why do you think Della called us over here?”

Donald smiled at the nickname and shrugged. “She didn’t tell me anything.”

Della usually told Donald everything. Why didn’t she tell him about this? Was it a surprise? Launchpad and Donald’s one year friendaversary was coming up -Launchpad practically begged for them to make it a thing of theirs. Maybe that’s what this is about?

Della did seem pretty happy when he called Launchpad his friend for the first time -not as happy as Launchpad, though. The man started crying when he heard it and pulled Donald into a hug.

Donald was pulled from the memory when Della walked into the room, holding something in her hand. She held it out, a neutral expression on her face. He took it from her and almost dropped it when he realized what it was; a pregnancy test.

There were two lines.

“You’re…”

“I’m pregnant.” she finished, voice cracking. Tears were welling in her eyes, but the smile on her face just warmed his heart.

Launchpad was the first to move, pulling her into an embrace that included two crying future parents -and a supportive brother whom was roped into it the moment his tears started.

They were going to be a family.

\------

Della did not plan on having three eggs. She didn’t plan on having to think up six names, three for each gender of each child -that was enough right? Or should she pick out three gender-neutral names too?

Launchpad watched her wrap three blankets around the eggs, each a different color; red, blue, and green. He didn’t know if the colors were to tell the kids apart or just a nest design choice.

After she was satisfied with the eggs, she set about putting everything else in the right place. She was stressing over a hatching she won’t see.

Speaking of which…

“Della, are you sure you have to go?” Launchpad asked, probably for the hundredth time that day.

Donald, standing in the doorway, sighed. “You shouldn’t have to miss this moment.”

Della turned to face the other two, taking a mental picture of them. She was going to miss them. “I have to go,” she said, trying hard to keep the pain out of her voice. “This is an important trip and I can’t miss it.”

“But you can’t miss this either,” Launchpad insisted, tears pricking his eyes.

Della walked over to him, leaned up on her tip toes, and kissed the tip of his beak. “I know, baby, but I have to…” she turned to her brother with a soft smile. “Maybe you could record it for me. I would like that.”

Donald nodded, a sad smile being the only sign of how he was feeling about this. He watched his sister pick up her bag and the two followed her out to the front door. She gave each of them a warm hug, before saying her goodbyes.

She was gone in a blink of an eye.

And she wasn’t coming back.


	2. Chapter 2

Donald hopped up onto the counter, twirling the phone cord around his fingers. He would usually be the one scolding Della -and Launchpad, in some cases- for sitting there, but something felt off today. Scrooge wasn’t answering any of his calls.

And Della hasn’t returned home yet. It’s been a few days since she left. That was a short time to be gone, he knew, but he hadn’t heard a word from her. It was worrying.

He didn’t like this silence that wrapped itself around him. The house, Della’s house, was too quiet. Launchpad could sometimes be heard shifting on the couch, or softly checking on the eggs -”Just in case they start hatching all alone,” he had said when asked about it.

There was a click.

“Donald,” Scrooge’s voice came through the phone and sent a chill down the sailor’s spine. He sounded broken. When he spoke again, Donald’s world shattered.

The phone slipped from his hand, unnoticed. His uncle’s words echoed in his head.

 _She’s gone_.

\------

Donald hid in the kitchen awhile, sitting on the floor behind the counter so Launchpad couldn’t see his shaking form if he stood in the doorway. He didn’t want to tell the pilot why he was sobbing. Not yet.

But luck was never on his side.

Launchpad rounded the island, looking down at his friend with a worried frown. He plopped down beside him, already reaching out to pull the sailor into his lap.

Donald melted against him, clutching at the rough fabric of his jacket. In that moment, he didn’t care that he was soaking it with his tears. He just needed this, just needed _him_.

Launchpad rubbed his back in calming circles as he let him cry it out. He didn’t know why he was crying, but did it really matter? His friend needed him. And that’s all that mattered.

Donald’s sobs and tears slowed, until he was just pressing against the bigger duck just because. When he was sure he had cried it all out, he pulled back to study his friend.

He had to tell him, even if it would break the goof-ball’s heart.

“Launchpad, she-” he swallowed thickly “-she’s gone. Della’s not coming home.”

Launchpad’s expression morphed from concern to understanding to, finally, the pain Donald was expecting.

But he didn’t expect the pilot to only nod and pull him back in for another hug. He leaned into it quite reluctantly.

Launchpad didn’t cry or deny it or do anything a grieving boyfriend was supposed to. He did _nothing_. Did he not care for Della as much as Donald thought?

Does Launchpad care at all?

He barely registered one arm leave his side. At least, not until he felt Launchpad’s chest heave with stifled sobs.

He shouldn’t have doubted him.

\------

Donald didn’t quite understand why he pulled on one of Della’s shirts. It was a yellow sweater. He brought the collar up to his beak and took a deep sniff. It still smelled like her.

He wanted to keep her clothes. He wanted just a small reminder of the sister he lost -or whatever happened to her. Scrooge wouldn’t say anything else. It made Donald’s blood boil. He deserved to know, but his uncle kept quiet.

If that’s how he was going to play, Donald would play too. He didn’t invite him over to see her eggs hatch. Scrooge didn’t deserve to see his nieces or nephews -or a mixture of both- come into this world.

Donald turned to the bed where the eggs were carefully placed in colored blankets -just how Della left them. His eyes trailed over to Launchpad curled up horizontally on the bed, fast asleep. He chuckled softly and moved over to lay down next to him.

A nap wouldn’t do any harm, since it was so late anyway -and the eggs weren’t supposed to hatch until the next day. The moment he joined the bigger duck, Launchpad’s eyes opened and he smiled sleepily at his friend.

“Don’t wake up on my count, buddy,” Donald whispered, getting comfortable.

Launchpad didn’t reply, just moved some of his cover onto the other duck. Then his eyes slipped closed, letting himself drift back into dreamland.

Donald soon joined him, feeling warm and fuzzy.

\------

Launchpad sat on the floor by the edge of the bed watching the eggs. They could hatch at any moment, he was sure of it.

Donald sat beside him, leaning against his side. His eyes were half-lidded, close to closing. They’ve been sitting there for hours. Launchpad insisted on it.

Suddenly a loud crack filled the air. The two leapt to their feet almost instantly. Donald rushed over to the birth certificates as Launchpad just watched in awe as the shell cracked more.

Soon, a little beak poked through the shell. Launchpad felt his heart leap when the little duckling full emerged from its egg. He carefully picked him up in his hands.

“Huebert Duck,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb through the ducklings feathers. He opened his eyes revealing the prettiest, warmest brown eyes the new dad had ever seen.

Another crack filled the air, and Launchpad turned to the blue-clad egg. The duckling inside, emerged quicker than its brother. So quick, he almost toppled off the bed. Launchpad was quick to catch him, already moving to swaddle the two in red and blue, respectively.

“Deuteronomy Duck,” he said, urging the boy to open his eyes.

“What?” Donald asked, incredulously, pausing after writing only one letter.

“Della wanted to call him that,” Launchpad explained, not taking his eyes off the squirming infant. “I wanted to call him Dewford.”

“Dewford Duck it is.”

Launchpad opened his beak to argue but could only get out a gasp when Dewford opened his eyes. They were a perfect match of Della’s eyes; sparkling blue crushed sapphires, as he liked to describe them.

“He has her eyes.” he said, softly. 

Donald walked over, reaching out his hand to the newborns. Dewford reached out to grab his finger, letting out little quacks. It was a sound he would never forget.

“He’s so cute.” he cooed. “Little Dewey,” he moved to rub his thumb across his cheek.

Launchpad turned his attention from the baby ducks to Donald’s face. The sailor looked so calm, at peace. His blue eyes resembled the calm depths of the ocean, sparkling under the sun. A genuine smile replaced his ever-present frown.

He looked beautiful.

The pilot quickly pushed that thought away and went back to his kids. Huey stared up at him, curiosity sparkling in his big eyes. Then the boy let out a few of his own quacks as if he was trying to talk to him.

Launchpad’s heart warmed and he reached out to lightly touch the boy’s beak. He immediately reacted with a louder quack and grabbed the finger with his little hands.

A crack sent the two ducks into silence. They both immediately turned to the last egg, watching it split open. It was like they knew their sibling was coming into the world.

That isn’t normal, right?

Donald was back by the birth certificates in a flash, waiting patiently. Launchpad watched, eyes wide as his third child poked its head out of its shell.

“Llewellyn Duck.” the pilot whispered, gently picking up the child. He squinted up at him, showing a sliver of his beautiful green eyes.

Donald chuckled as he wrote the name down. Della really liked odd names. He tensed at the thought, the pain seeping into his system once again. She should’ve been here.

He slowly walked over to Launchpad, gaze trailing to the two ducklings watching him with big eyes. Huey, he noticed as he moved closer, had Launchpad’s eyes.

Launchpad wrapped Louie in his green blanket and set him down by his brothers. He blinked at them, then turned to Donald completely lost.

“What do we do now?”

His friend’s absolute confusion brought a smile to Donald’s face. He pushed aside the ache in his heart to let the warmth of seeing his nephews replace it.

“Well…” he went on a tangent showing Launchpad everything the newborns needed.

\------

“I can’t do this.” Launchpad said the moment the ducklings were tucked safely in a crib. The two drakes were sprawled out on the couch, exhausted.

Donald turned his head, looking at his friend in disbelief. “What are you talking about? You just helped me put three very fussy newborns to bed! Of course you can do this.”

“I can’t, Donald.” Launchpad said, facing the other duck. For the first time, Donald could truly see the fear in his eyes. The pilot kept his voice steady as he continued, “I knew that I could be a good dad as long as she was by my side, but…”

Donald knew who _she_ was. It didn’t take a scientist to figure out. He hesitantly placed his hand on the pilot’s shoulder, urging him to speak his mind.

And he did.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Donny.” Launchpad said, subtly leaning towards his hand. “I can’t raise these boys on my own. I need Della…” he cut himself off with a choked sob. He paused, steadying himself.

Donald could only watch as his friend ached. They both hurt, but he pushed that aside for now. Right now he had to be there for the pilot.

Launchpad blinked away his tears and said, “I… I need you to raise the kids, Donald.” his voice came out soft and certain.

The sailor’s eyes widened. No. His friend did not just say that, that he wanted him to raise his nephews.

But he did.

And Donald couldn’t believe he would say such a thing. He wasn’t going to raise Launchpad’s children for him. He deserved to be in the kids lives. Besides, he would be a great dad.

Della left the kids with him for a reason.

“Launchpad,” Donald said, coldly. “I’m not going to raise the boys for you. They need their dad in their life. They already lost their mom-” Launchpad winced at that “-don’t have them lose you too.”

“But,” Launchpad argued, watching the other nervously -he didn’t want to anger him That wouldn’t be pretty. “I don’t know anything about raising kids! What do I do when they cry? When can I feed them hamburgers?!”

Donald’s intense gaze softened. “Launchpad…” he stopped to study him. There was something the pilot wasn’t saying. “Tell me the real reason.”

Launchpad’s shoulders tensed immediately, and he instinctively reached for the zipper on his jacket. He played with it, eyes studying the very interesting design on it.

“Launchpad…” Donald frowned, worrying the sleeve of Della’s - _his_ \- sweater in his hands. Launchpad was never this quiet, _ever_. It was unsettling.

After a few minutes of counting the teeth of his zipper, Launchpad sighed. “Donny… I thought if Della was here, I could handle raising kids.” he turned to his friend, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “But, I can’t. I’m not smart or clever or anything she ever was.”

The pilot chuckled, bitterly. “I’m a walking disaster.”

Donald didn’t see how much Launchpad was hurting until then. He never even noticed. What kind of a friend didn’t see the ache, the hurt in his smile?

He didn’t know what he could do to help him. To show him that he could raise the kids. That Launchpad was the father they needed in their lives.

“I can’t do this alone.” Launchpad repeated, words filled with more hurt and pain and _fear_ than ever before. His tone -he was begging.

Donald weighed his options. He could take the boys and raise them, but could he handle that? He wasn’t the best at keeping jobs and his houseboat was so small.

Or he could just leave them with Launchpad. But he could risk this friendship if he does so.

It was like the world decided to gift him with an unsolvable problem. _I want to thank my bad luck for this terrible award,_ he thought with a grimace. There was no way he could ever come up with an answer.

_I can’t do this alone._

Launchpad’s words echoed in his head, bearing him with an idea that was strange, yet could be the answer he was searching for.

“Launchpad…” he faltered when the pilot turned his eyes to him, shining with curiosity. If he wasn’t about to ask something really, _really_ odd, he would’ve found it… refreshing. “Do you… Maybe we should…”

He groaned, cheeks flushing. Why was this so hard to ask? It was simple! All he had to say was-

“Do you want to raise the boys together?” he blurted out, watching Launchpad’s eyes widen in shock. That sounded way more intimate and romantic than he intended.

The soft smile that graced Launchpad’s face told him all he needed to know.

They were going to get through this. _Together_.

And everything was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to get this chapter out, I kept writing only bits and pieces so I'm sorry if any of the writing seems to change style or ruins the flow of the chapter.
> 
> Anywho, I had fun writing this.


	3. Chapter 3

Donald stood in the hall, staring at the door that ultimately led to his new life. Apartment 303. Launchpad’s apartment. He clutched the strap of his duffle bag tighter, raising his hand to knock.

He hesitated.

This was big. This was the start of something new, something different. He was going to set aside everything to raise his sister’s kids with the father of said kids.

That sounded a lot weirder than he expected.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked.

It felt like only a few seconds passed when the door opened to reveal Launchpad’s familiar, nervous face. He could hear the boys crying in the background.

“Donny! I’m so glad you’re here!” the pilot ushered him in, not hiding the way his shoulders slumped. “The boys won’t stop crying and I don’t know why! I tried _everything_.”

Donald took a quick look around the small apartment’s living room. The walls and shelves were littered with merch for some superhero. In the middle of the room was a raggedy couch -he didn’t want to even think about the questionable stains- and in front of it was a small tv, its screen cracked.

_And this was better than my boat?_

He, momentarially, wished they were able to keep Della’s house. At least that looked suitable for raising children in.

Instead of voicing any of this -Launchpad worked too hard to get this place, he reasoned- he followed the cries of the boys. He found them tucked less than elegantly into a makeshift nest on Launchpad’s bed.

Donald scowled. The boys were supposed to be in a buggy but not a crib, never a crib -he would die before letting their father put them in one of _those_.

“I wanted to wait for you to move in before buying them anything,” Launchpad explained, rather nervously. “I’m not really sure what to buy anyway so…”

Donald ignored him and moved to pick up Dewey, the one crying the most. He rocked him gently, whispering the lyrics of his favorite lullaby. After a few minutes, the duckling’s cries turned to soft quacks.

His brothers too calmed down as if they could sense their brother’s ease. It surprised and excited Donald to see the boys already have such a close bond at such a young age. They were really taking after him and Della.

“Since they are so calm,” Donald said after a few minutes of just holding the boy. “We could go shopping.”

\------

“Donald look at these shoes! They’re so tiny!” Launchpad cooed, holding out a small slipper.

Donald chuckled. “It is tiny, but the boys don’t need shoes. Ooh!” he grabbed a red one-piece off the stand and held it up. “What about _this_.”

Launchpad studied it. “Hmm… I like it, but I raise you-” he grabbed the nearest hanger “-this!” he holds up a little dress.

“Launchpad… That’s a dress.” Donald says, calmly.

“Yeah?”

“And they’re boys.”

“So?”

Donald paused to think that over. Finally he smiled. “Alright, let’s see if any of the boys like it.” he turned around to hold it up in front of the boys.

Huey was the first one to reach for it, grabbing at the soft fabric of the skirt.

“Aw, Donny, he likes it.” Launchpad whispered, leaning over to gently rub Huey’s cheek.

“Yeah… he does.”

\------

Donald felt like he was being torn in two. He had two options; buy everything that they have in the cart because his -Launchpad’s kids deserve it, or admit that he doesn’t have enough money to pay for any of it.

When he got to the checkout line, he was tapping his fingers nervously. The boys seemed to sense his anxiety and kept reaching for him. The sight didn’t help to ease him, but he still smiled and let them grab his fingers.

Launchpad seemed to notice too, for when they got to the cashier he pulled out his wallet. Donald would’ve objected if he wasn’t too stunned by how the pilot paid effortlessly -in cash.

After they tucked the boys safely into their new car seats and were on the road, Donald turned to his friend to ask about it.

“What? The money? Oh!” he laughed, practically radiating with impartialness. “I just started saving it when she-” he winced “-told us about the boys.” he swallowed thickly, and focused on the car in front of him.

Donald set a hand on his shoulder and gave him a small smile. “You don’t have to talk about it now…” his smile fell into a frown. “I think we both need some time…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna go ahead and admit that this chapter isn't finished, but I wanted to at least go ahead and post something.
> 
> I really wanted to write this story and actually finish it, but it doesn't seem like that's going to happen. I've thought over my options. I going to write drabbles in the timeline of this AU so I don't stress over not updating.
> 
> So, basically, don't expect me to update this much.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy reading this story. Any and all criticism is greatly appreciated!


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